


The Angels Are Playing

by Frost_or_Fire



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Babies, De-Aged Aziraphale, De-Aged Crowley, Fluff, This is cute, a WHOLE lot of fluff, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frost_or_Fire/pseuds/Frost_or_Fire
Summary: In which, it has been two months after The End and the two rebellious beings are left alone from their respectful sides. Or so they thought.Deaged Aziraphale, chaos ensues, is that Newt and Anathema holding hands over there?, Archangel fucking Gabriel and Lord of the Flies in a possible relationship?, Cuteness over load, idk there weren't any deaged fics.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Are you looking for baby/Toddler fics for your favorite characters? Tired of searching and never getting the results you're looking for? Then look no further!!
> 
> Also this is my first piece posted here so I'm open to constructive criticism! 
> 
> Please be nice, buckle up, and enjoy!!

It started as a typical Tuesday, a little after noon and the weather was rather nice in England than that of the usual cold and rainy days. The sun has shined pass the blockade of clouds that settled heavily in the sky and all Crowley wanted was to visit his only favorite person on the planet.

The demon took his time on riding the Bentley towards Soho, only grumbling once or twice on a red light that did make him want to use a demonic miracle.

But he didn't.

And upon arriving at A.Z. Fell and Co., he knocked on the front doors to the bookshop slash apartment to find that no Angel had answered nor opened the doors.

Crowley didn't think much of it at the moment, only had the thought of the shorter being engrossed in a newly hatched tome that was in dire need of analyzing.

So like any other time, supposedly when the shop was open to the public, he opened the oddly unlocked doors to the place. Which, mind you, should be the first alarm bell that should've gone off when entering.

The red head looked around, taking in the sight of the usual book keep, shelves, tables littered with, well, books along with parcels that Crowley had no care to know of what or who's origins.

The building was quiet like usual, so the only logical thing to do was to search out for Aziraphale.

"Oi, Angel! Ya here?" The demon calls out, brushing his index finger over a table top to sweep off a light patch of dust. 

His lips pinch back with an expression of uncertainty and something that could be recognized as confusion as to why the Angel haven't cleaned his beloved home.

Wiping his fingers off on the backs of his jeans, he quests further in.

"Aziraphale? Are ya in here?" He asks, looking into a small room of an alcove where a brief flashback hits him of the fire that happened here no more than two months ago.

Crowley couldn't see fire the same way again after that, whether it was normal fire or the fires of hell. He could see the flames licking up the sides of his vision, dancing the tango of death and destruction. How the red flower wilts and burned the shelves and made the building snow down with ash.

The ache of that night returned for the midst of seconds in his chest. His mouth goes dry as he muses the thought that in his fit of anger and grief of his best friend that he didn't notice the difference of the fires that night to tell if a demon has finally tracked the angel down. To think that it was all just an accident beacuse of that Shadwell have only flew over his head.

Crowley blinks, something rare when you have serpentine eyes, and lets out a shaky breath then he goes back to searching the angel.

When there was no sign of him in the bookshop, the demon decides to go check up in the apartment upstairs. He decides if the Angel was not here then he'll go check the Ritz where he bet the being is eating a pie or something silly.

Again, when he gets to the apartment door, he knocks politely(a habit really, Aziraphale frets over his manners) then waits.

Only this time, he did hear something on the other side of the door. He was sure of it. But that could be something else like outside on the street where traffic is such a dread.

Crowley huffs, agitated, and prays to who ever that the Angel was decent before he actually did barge in.

And boy was the sight something to see.

No, the room wasn't trashed, at least not entirely. You see, Crowley hasn't been up here for a very long time. But he can remember bits of how the Guardian of the Eastern gate decorated the small kitchenette. The table looked like it was fairly new and out of an antique shop. The tartan patterned table sheet was clean with not a single crumb on its fabric top.

The same goes to the counters and sink, spotless and clean. Which says much when the Angel indulge himself to some food of any sorts.

The demon hummed to himself in a thought of where else the Angel might be, so, he explores some more.

The Fallen Angel suanters into the living area, smiling to see the very comfy couch with of course a Tartan throw left unkempt on an arm. A small unused tv sits on a equally small bookcase for the more private books Aziraphale kept in his possession.

He checks the small bathroom, after mustering courage with a fleeting apology on his tongue when he finds no one there.

He looks in the spare room on the other side of the apartment to find the walls smothered with endless rows of bookshelves of the more archived books that were too old to put on display.

That only left the bedroom, which Crowley was sure enough wasn't put to any use but there was hoping.

The door was cracked open, he can hear a steady mumble of a voice inside. His heart beat steadied the slightest from some unwarranted feelings that edged into him.

He knocks softly, his index finger setting three firm taps before pushing the door in.

"If I had known betta, Angel, you would be looking for alone... Time.." Crowley finishes, taking in the sight of the mess of papers all over the floor, desk, cabinets, and every other piece of furniture you can name.

He gawks for a moment. Taking in the sight of utter discomposure of a certain low the angel has hit dead on.

The windows were open, the afternoon breeze making its way inside pass the curtains and make a further mess of the papers.

The demon pulls his sun glasses off, squinting around the room to notice that some of the papers were based off of poems that were surprisingly not Shakespeare nor the old poetets that he adores. 

A little gurgle fills the room, sending him reeling towards the direction of the sound.

It was high pitched yet soft, something sweet but out of place. It was -

"Aziraphale?" The red head asks out loud, seeing a small head of white curls peak out from underneath the metal frame of the bed.

Another gurgle, then a small squeal as the little Angel crawls out with an oversized shirt that barely held the child back.

Again, Crowley gawks at the sight before managing to shake himself out of it.

"Angel, is that you?" He asks, crouching down to the child's height with a teasing smile. "Gotten stuck have you?"

The blonde only tilts his head, making a small sound that was questionable before crawling towards the red head's knees.

Crowley refuses to admit that is was actually adorable.

"Shifting through forms aye?" He mutters, poking the angel in one of his puffy cheeks to which elicits a small bubbly laughter.

Aziraphale turns his head, rooting for Crowley's finger before taking it in his mouth with a tangle hand wrapping around the demon's wrist.

A frown plays at his features, noticing the very instinctual gesture of a newborn child looking for their mother's teat or the rubber of a nipple bottle, to which Crowley gives a nervous sound.

"Angel, how about you change back. We forget I barged in on," he motions with his other hand up and down at the two or half feet high child, "whatever this is, and we go out to the Ritz or the Park or where ever fancies you? Hm?"

The brightest blue eyes look up at him curiously, not pulling away for a second from the finger he was currently sucking on.

"C'mon Angel, enough playing around.." The Demon says, more persistently and pulls his hand away from the child's mouth.

Aziraphale blinks for a moment before transitioning to sucking a wet spot into the white sleeve of his dress shirt.

The wile serpent runs his hands through his fiery red hair for a moment, counting backwards from 10 and takes a few steps back to avoid making a scene for all of England to hear.

"Angel.. Angel..." Crowley finds himself saying, his voice full of emotion that could be depicted as exhaustion but really was the sound of him on the brink towards panicking.

The child only stared off, biting at his hand through the cloth and sits there like the patient little being he once was.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Crowley finds himself asking, looking down at Aziraphale with a pinched look that was mockery of a grin. "Or some sort of lesson for me? Because I certainly don't understand the comedy or meaning of this... This.." He grits his teeth, throwing his hands at the fairer one with complete exaggeration. "This!" He snaps, finding his words failing at his bewildered state.

Aziraphale looks up to him, his blue eyes growing teary, and before he knew what was happening, the child lets out a loud wail.

Crowley hisses under his breath, quickly swooping down to take his best friend turned child in his arms and pats his back carefully.

"I didn't mean to yell, I swear.." The demon says, bouncing around with the Angel as if he was playing Nanny once more with Young Warlock.

Aziraphale gives a coughed sob, settling into Crowley's shoulder with a small hiccup.

Crowley sighs, looking around the room once more to figure things out.

A smell catches his nose before he knew it actually hit him. Something pure, something good.

And that's when he gotten an idea.

"Gabriel Fucking Archangel..."


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took longer than it should have, first semester was finishing up of my school year. But anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!!

"No Azira," Crowley groans out, taking the child's hand and carefully plucks a leaf from his grabby little hands.

The plant - who was the choice of victim that day - was already trembling by the time the demon approached them, even slumping in a motion of relief when its leaf was freed.

The little Angel only pouts up at his once companion, his lower lip sticking out in an expression that can only be named as displeasure.

"Nononono, don't cry.." Crowley immediately begs at the sight and moves to pacify the child before he surely lets out a wail that would make all of life in the area go deaf.

The Demon picks Aziraphale up, settles him on his hip and hurries to the little kitchen his apartment haves to fetch a bottle. His past nanny skills kicking in once more.

"Here, ya always fancy a meal Angel.." The ginger says more to himself, cradling the child now and pressing the bottle to an eager mouth. "There ya go, just eat up.." He finds himself crooning, the edge of his lips ever so slightly lifting up.

The little blue eyes peered up at him, staring for a long moment while suckling on the rubber nipple with a faraway look in the pupils.

Funny how the Ex-Angel imagined that all angels and Celestial beings would have more vibrant eyes. Gabriel with his unnatural purple eyes, His own can be compared to liquefied gold or the sweetest of honey. Normally the other Angel's had more colorful eyes than that of a palette of blues, greens, and browns like the humans.

But all the same, the Angel's eyes were lovely.

Azieaphale blinks, fighting away sleep from what Crowley can see and only hums.

"This form will exhaust you faster..." he mumbles softly, his feet leading him towards the bedroom where a small set up of a little bed for the angel.

The bedroom was spacious, that was apparent. A single bed pressed into a corner with dark sheets tucked in with care.

A smaller side table set up along the bed with a lamp and picture frame.

Crowley continues humming to himself before kneeling down in another corner where a small bed sits. Equally small walls that were obviously cushioned. Then there was the white blanket, soft and fuzzy to the touch.

Perfect for his little angel.

Said angel clings to his shirt front where his other hand holds the bottle of which was almost finished.

The demon sighs, freeing the fabric from his grabby hands once more before setting Aziraphale on the cushioned bottom of the little bed. Hand tucked under his little head of curls.

"I'll be back," he cooes and brushed his hand over the pale forehead before pulling away all together.

'Gotta find that bastard who did this to you..' he thinks to himself before disappearing out the door.

(\\(<•><•>)/)

Gabriel frowns, looking at the silver screen from where he sits in his chair.

Beelzebub lifts a brow, swirling their glass of wine between their fingers.

"So it is true.."

"The damon is in love with the an-gel..." they say, their tone taking on something out of curiosity with a tad of scolding. 

"So it seems.." Gabriel says, clicking his fingers to erase the screen from view before leaning back in his seat. "Your little trick truly did wonders on Aziraphale.."

"We may be different, you and I, but our side can very much effect your side as much as your side can intervene on us.." They say, grumbling on the last bit. The word 'kill' hanging on their tongue before its drowned down the back of their throat by the bitterness from the wine.

"I can see that.." The violet eyed angel says, hands folded together in concentration on their next move.

"So.." Beelzebub starts, standing up and wandering around the office they once walked in. "Turning against your own side, how's that working for you?"

"Aziraphale betrayed Heaven and the Enffiable plan, this is punishment." Gabreil states, looking up to the other creature in the room.

"Punishment." They echoed, nodding their head and picks up a random contraption. "Right."

The brunette watches them closely, giving the glass of wine a distasteful glare before straining his features into a forced smile.

"Aziraphale hasn't truly met the sharp end of the blade-" He starts, rising from his chair to walk over to Beelzebub. "-If anything, I want to see if there is any hope for him to change and abandon this course of action he took."

"So it's a test?" The smaller entity asks, placing the doodad down and clicks their fingers for a refill.

"One might see it that way, yes.." Gabriel admits, tossing his head to and fro with thought.

The Lord of Flies peers up at him, taking a long sip and wordlessly walks away to another corner of the room. To Gabriel's dismay.

"What do you plan to do with Crowley?" The Angel supervisor asks, following after them with not so much trust as to what the demon will get into.

"As far as I know, he's untouchable. The Trial he was apart of was an utterly humiliating sight to the lower demons of Hell." They sneer, making a fist at their side and glares at the others presence.

"As far as I am concern, We had a similar trial of our own-"

"Yeah yeah, the Fire of Hell."

"-it failed miserably that I was played for a fool to believe Aziraphale was a demon himself.."

Beelzebub frowns at that, but soon grins up at him.

"I would've known if he was a demon.." They say, being the one in charge of the demons AND paperwork of new recruits, damned souls, and miracles. 

Gabriel nods in agreement, unhelpfully growing fidgety.

Beelzebub feels it. Feels the tension in the room and unease from the Angel.

"There's nothing to worry your pretty little head about, Archangel." They grit out. Satan Almighty, why do emotions have to complicate things.

As if to spite him subtlety, they take another sip of wine before carelessly pour the rest on the pure white floor.

The holy being sucked in a breath, watching and staring as the alcohol stain the pure tile under his feet.

The contents spilled until there was nothing left to fall from the glass. Beelzebub felt pride swell in their chest, grinning down at their handiwork before looking to the glass where a few droplets clung to the transparent surface.

"I have an idea that can further thwart our respective workers.." The demon pulls the glass back, licking the droplets away and gives a heavy hum at the dizzying taste.

Gabriel's eyes were glued to the stained tile. His gaze smoldering, maybe enough to scare the holy spirit out of any entity there was. Angel or Demon.

Perhaps those violet eyes hold a fire for the color red.

'Maybe that's where the flames of Hell are..' Beelzebub finds themselves thinking, placing the glass cup down on a useless countertop. 

"This idea involves Crowley I presume." Gabriel pushes out, eyes flickering up to greet blue.

"You presumed well." The demon mocks, stepping in the red puddle and pushing into the Angel's space. Challenging him.

"Send me the documents of possible spots that are vulnerable." Gabriel finalizes, clearly dismissing the demon he is forced to work with.

Beelzebub glares up at him, pass his ridiculous scarf and the bridge of his nose to the Man's eyes.

They stand like that for the tensest moment before the demon backs down, grumbling under their breath and walks away.

The Angel watches, two pair of red footsteps walking towards the office door. The red stain spreading farther from its original spot.

"Choke on your own Halo." The Lord of Flies sneers before disappearing through the white door and into another room that transports them to their respective world.

Gabriel watched, the words stinging like an arrow.

He truly missed his once friend.

The door closes and the demon was gone.

"Till next time." He mutters, glaring at the floor before snapping his fingers and returning to his desk for work.


End file.
